So I had a kind of traumatic event this evening. I was being all grown-up and getting stuff done around the house when my kitchen sink backed up. I maintain it's because we've got some weird and temperamental plumbing around our garbage disposal. (And the fact that I accidentally overloaded it while trying to get rid of some nasty leftovers in our fridge has absolutely no bearing on the situation whatsoever.)
Anyway, after about 15 seconds of cursing and utter panic, I grabbed my phone to call my Dad and ask what I should do. He said I needed to fill up one side with water (which it had already done by itself--convenient) and plunge the side with the disposal while it was running. I thanked the Deckard for his home maintenance wisdom and ran to the bathroom to grab the only plunger in the house. (Note to self--it was okay this time because I've never had to use that plunger on the toilet--but I should definitely consider getting a separate plunger for the kitchen or risk forever being grossed out.)
It took me about 20 minutes of enthusiastic plunging (and mild cursing) before I got the disposal working again. (This is in part because I have a very short reach and must now stand even further away from the sink than I'm used to, and part because I had a hard time getting a good seal around the edge of the disposal--the plunger kept slipping in the nasty water. I'm going to have to wash my kitchen rug tonight.) And then it took another ten minutes of tweaking water settings while turning the disposal on and off before getting it to run smoothly.
I feel very proud of myself for not falling apart and calling Patrick to come home early to take care of it; but really I'm more impressed with the fact that I didn't vomit because it was awful...like dead body odor and unmentionable bodily fluid kind of awful...and somehow this pregnant lady kept it together. Heck, yes! (I'm trying to be good and not curse anymore tonight.)
Even better, I went on to make dinner after this incident despite being physically wiped out. (It was a lot more taxing to take care of the sink than I had anticipated. Particularly because I had put in a solid hour of constant running around and bending while doing housework before this happened.) However, my second wind is officially gone, and I am going to flop down somewhere soft after eating.
Addendum: Just went downstairs to switch over the laundry and discovered that I didn't actually fix the sink. I just moved the backlog to the basement drain and flooded our downstairs. Good feelings are totally gone. Patrick is the hero of the hour because he put on some old work boots and my cleaning gloves and went down to take care of my mess. He unclogged the drain, got rid of the flotsam that lingered behind, and is now disinfecting the floor with a strong ammonia cleaner. I literally cannot express enough gratitude for having this wonderful man in my life to rescue me from my own stupidity. And he was so much calmer than me while still being surrounded by the unspeakable smell coming from that drain...the man is truly amazing.
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